


(i can't get no) satisfaction

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: On their journey to King's Landing, Lady Brienne of Tarth and the Kingslayer encounter a plant that leaves them both aroused beyond reason.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 46
Kudos: 247
Collections: J/B Monthly Madness: February 2020





	(i can't get no) satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> Only today I was mentioning fics my muse wanted to play with, and one of those was the sex pollen trope. A very lovely anon prompted me ("Prisoner Jaime still with two hands + sex pollen + banter + statuesque warrior maiden 😏😛😈👀"), and spurred on by sameboots, this story was born. Also, this fic can be part of #facesittingfebruary, which I'm really glad I got to be part of. 
> 
> It is utter filth from the word go, but I hope you enjoy it.

Brienne continued to rub at her clit but found no satisfaction. She had tried stroking her fingers in ever-decreasing circles; she had tried thrusting her hips into the empty air. Even pushed a single finger inside her cunt to stroke a spot deep inside that had brought her to orgasm many a time at Evenfall Hall. But on this night, tucked out of sight in the depths of the forest, Brienne of Tarth could not bring herself to completion. 

“Having trouble, my Lady?” 

Her hand froze inside her breeches. She had thought the Kingslayer to be asleep; his steady breathing in the cool night air had misled her. She dared not look over to the tree she had lashed him to, lest she be greeted by that smirking mouth that infuriated her so. “You should find sleep where you can, Kingslayer.”

“How can I sleep when all I can hear is the sound of you touching yourself?” Brienne stiffened. “I can smell you, too. Have done all day.”

“Kingslayer—”

“You grew wetter when you touched my cock. Did you _like_ that, my Lady? Did you think about your hands wrapped around my shaft when you were touching yourself? Probably not. Probably why you’ve yet to climax.” 

This time, Brienne _did_ move. She removed her hand from her breeches and crossed the short distance to the tree where the Kingslayer sat. In the darkness, she found his head and tugged at his hair, exposing the length of his throat to a blade she did not grasp. In the moonlight, she could see a glint in his eye; the predatory snarl of his lips. The Kingslayer turned his head upward the best he could and _sniffed._

“I can smell you on your fingers.”

“Stop talking.” 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, my Lady. I’m hard myself. There’s an _ache_ in my bones; fire in my blood. Every time I move against these rags it sends a shiver down my spine. You feel it too. “

“I—”

“Do you think it was the flowers? Those red blooms we tumbled into with the curious scent.” The Kingslayer’s tongue wet his top lip. “I remember thinking, as you pressed me into the dirt, that those flowers smelled like a woman’s cunt. Would you strike me if I said your cunt smelled sweeter than a rose, my Lady?” 

“ _Fuck you.”_

He sighed. “I think you may have to, to quench this urge inside us both. What you did earlier—”

“—was an error in judgement.” 

After they had escaped detection by hiding in the strange bushes, Brienne had noticed the Kingslayer’s erect cock as they had walked onward. Both of them had flushed with embarrassment at his state of arousal. Her own had built since their tumble in the bush, and Brienne had been ashamed at her unbridled _want_ after being so close to the Kingslayer. Not as ashamed as she had been after she had stroked him to completion after his shaft remained stiff well into the afternoon. 

“Your touch gave me a momentary reprieve,” the Kingslayer continued, despite Brienne’s fingers threaded through his mane. “Whatever has consumed us, perhaps the only way to sate it is through fucking.”

Brienne snorted. “I would not give you my maidenhead if you were the last soul in Westeros, Kingslayer. I will walk all the way to King’s Landing unsatisfied if need be.”

“How _gallant_ of you. Let us see how long it lasts before all you think about is your want; your _need_ to touch your clit, fill that cunt of yours.” His teeth toyed with his bottom lip. Brienne loosened her grip. “You think I want to fuck you? I have no desire to bed anyone other than my sister, but I equally have no desire to walk all the way to the capital with my cock stiff and my balls blue. I am _merely_ suggesting, my Lady, that we give each other a helping hand to take the edge off.” 

“I won’t untie you.” 

“There are other ways I can touch you, my Lady. You can straddle my face; let my tongue give you the orgasm you so _desperately_ need.” 

Brienne thought over the Kingslayer’s proposal. It had... _merit._ Ever since the flowers, she had noticed her attentions were not fully on the path in front of them or her charge. Brienne imagined the distractions would only grow the longer she remained unsatisfied. She had a duty, had sworn a vow. If letting the Kingslayer provide her pleasure ensured she could achieve her goal, then so be it. 

“ _Fine_ , Kingslayer. I agree to your proposal.” 

He snorted. “Do not pretend you won’t enjoy this, my Lady.”

“Did you enjoy my hands on _you_ , earlier?” she asked, as she unwound the bonds holding him to the tree trunk.

“I came, didn’t I? _Oof.”_ Brienne forced the Kingslayer onto his back. She then dragged his hands above his head, and pinned the bindings to the ground with her dagger. In the moonlight, she could just about make out his face. He licked his lips. “A shame you have me bound, my Lady. I’d have liked to hold your hips whilst you ride my tongue.” 

Brienne ignored him, and instead focussed on the laces of her breeches. They were already undone from her own attempts at pleasure, and she quickly shoved them down her legs, along with her smallclothes and boots. Brienne whispered a quick prayer to the Warrior that they would not be set upon by thieves or soldiers whilst the Kingslayer satisfied her. And, then, Brienne settled herself over his face. 

She hovered over his lips. “Get on with it then.”

“I told you, Brienne of Tarth,” the Kingslayer said, leaning upwards to nip at her inner thigh. She gasped. “I’m _strong enough._ I can take the weight of you, or I wouldn’t have offered.” 

If she hadn’t already thought him arrogant, his smirk as he looked up between her open thighs would have sealed her opinion of him forever. So Brienne did as she was bidden, and sat firmly upon the Kingslayer’s face. She felt the brush of his beard against her inner thigh; Brienne groaning as heat spread throughout her extremities. Her own attempts at satisfaction had been fruitless; the pleasure too far away. But the Kingslayer’s mouth on her skin made everything sharper; every inch of her _aching._

 _“Yes_!”

The Kingslayer’s tongue swirled around her clit, before drawing the bud between his lips and sucking _._ Brienne’s hips moved of their own accord and ground her cunt against his face. In a moment of clarity, she moved to lift herself, but the roar of the golden lion between her legs kept her where she was. Brienne continued to rock against his face whilst his mouth worked her cunt; the Kingslayer licking and sucking with vigour. Brienne had never felt pleasure like this. When the Kingslayer’s tongue slipped inside her, she screamed loud enough to startle the birds from the trees. 

His teeth nipped at her thigh. There would be a bruise tomorrow, and redness as his beard rubbed against her skin. “Quiet, my Lady. You’ll bring my father’s men upon us. The Stark army, too”

“I—” Brienne drew in a ragged breath. “I feel—”

“ _I know,”_ he said, as he left another kiss to her tender skin. “It’s unlike any pleasure I’ve ever felt.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Don’t let me stop.” 

Brienne carded her fingers through the Kingslayer’s hair, drawing a whimper from his lips. Grinning, she pressed her cunt to his mouth once more. It did not take much for him to give her the pleasure he’d promised. The precipice approached with every stroke; every swirl of his tongue. The Kingslayer’s lips sucked at the tender nerve between her legs; his tongue flicking at her clit. Pleasure overwhelmed her like the waves in Shipbreaker Bay; wildfire burning her from the inside out. Brienne tasted blood as she bit down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from screaming to all seven heavens.

Sated – at least, for now – Brienne rolled off the Kingslayer and collapsed to the ground beside him. She looked over at him; his lips and beard wet with her arousal. His eyes were glassy, and her own gaze dropped to the prominent tenting of his breeches. “ _Please.”_

Brienne acquiesced. If this is what it took to complete her vows, then so be it. 


End file.
